It’s no wonder Harold’s had a head full of cotton wool all his life. When Devious replaced the window yesterday he found something of worrying proportions. Not for me, of course, I don’t even pay heed to the petty machinations of mortals but it has dire consequences for little Harold.
He found a poppet, the European equivalent of a voodoo doll, which was bound with what I can only assume was Harold’s hair since the doll had a superficial resemblance to my little protégé. It was lodged in the space between two bricks and the window frame. What I can’t tell, though, is what its purpose is. The window, as I remarked yesterday, is seventeenth century and yet the poppet is of Harold as he is now.
How curious. Someone’s been mucking about with purple tickets, I think. Time travel is such an inelegant way of casting magic.
I wondering now about the best way to dissolve the power it has over him. The pins you would expect in a poppet are missing, leading me to conclude that the poppet is designed to affect him mentally rather than physically. Is this a good thing, I wonder? Harold is scatty enough with the brain he’s got. If I remove the poppet’s power over him will he become more intelligent?
Excuse me a moment while I just get him to sign some paperwork.
Okay I’m back.
We were sat out in the garden last night. We’d set out the deckchairs on the croquet lawn and sent the imps to bring us a constant supply of cocoa. Not Gillian of course, she can’t stand the stuff. She and Felicia shared the remains of one of the deer, since the herd needed culling anyway – there were too many stags born this year and not enough does.
It was a bit chilly for August, so we had plenty of blankets and I pointed out to Harold that he perhaps shouldn’t have had me fill in the lake of fire after all. He made a dreadful face at me, one I think a demon would be proud to own. I’ll put it up on d-bay should Harold die with it on and make a fortune.
We watched the Perseid meteor shower for a good couple of hours (and then a bad one because Julie threw popcorn at us and it attracted the corn dogs and even Felicia shapeshifting couldn’t get rid of them) when Harold wondered (aloud, of course) what would happen if one fell on us.
Anyone would think he had a wish spare (a deathwish, ha-ha) because what should happen but a falling star gets brighter and bigger until we all start to look at each other and laugh nervously because it looks like Harold’s going to get his wish and have us all killed.
The star gets bigger and bigger until we can actually see actual flames coming off it as it streaks toward us (though we can’t see the tail, obviously) and lands slap bang in the pond.
It wasn’t a meteor at all. It was Mercury. It seems he was in such a rush to post a letter he’d forgotten to do up his winged slippers and they’d come off in mid flight. How we all laughed, at least until we discovered he’d stolen the deer herd.